


Baggage Claim

by fromawhisperstart



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromawhisperstart/pseuds/fromawhisperstart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I took your suitcase from the airport baggage claim on accident, hey wait don’t I know you from somewhere?” Oliver/Felicity AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Starling

**Author's Note:**

> Something which spawned from my growing love for Oliver/Felicity. This will be a multi-chaptered story, so hang in there!

Donuts.

She could _definitely_ smell donuts.

Spinning her head around the departure gate, trying desperately to identify and follow the smell, Felicity Smoak must’ve looked insane. After a stupidly delayed flight, which resulted in missing her subsequent flight and waiting another five hours for the next available seat to Starling City, Felicity was frustrated, tired, and _hungry._

She toyed for a while with the idea of heading over to the kiosk to grab a donut or five. Her flight was about to board, and she’d eventually made a deal with herself to wait it out just a few more hours, hoping instead to scavenge free pretzels from the airline. Money was tight after putting a deposit on her new apartment and she kept telling herself that owning lampshades and bookshelves was more important than food.

Sighing, she reluctantly tore her eyes away from the kiosk. She shuffled through her bag to find her _TechWeek_ magazine and after an unenthusiastic flick through, she eventually settled on an article about an up and comer within the computer industry. _Ray Palmer,_ she read, _the man about to change the face of technology forever…_

She was deep into the third paragraph when she was startled by male laughter booming across the departure gate. She lifted her eyes to follow the sound.

“Oh my god,” the teenager a few seats down from her gasped to her parents, “It’s Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn!”

The two males, clad in expensive leather jackets and reeking of confidence and what Felicity could only assume was aftershave, swept through the gate and sauntered to the front of the queue beginning to form at the desk.

Felicity was stunned. Although Tommy and Oliver frequently made the headlines due to the drunken decadence that surrounded their lives, tarnishing their reputations one stripper at a time, Felicity knew them for a different reason.

She slid lower into her seat and made a feeble attempt to fix her post-flight hair, pushing her unruly curls behind her ears.

_Please don’t turn around, please don’t turn around._

She lifted her TechWeek magazine higher so it would cover her face, praying they wouldn’t see her. It was awkward and she was sure it was bringing her more attention than diverting it, but hey, desperate times.

After a few moments, she peered over the top of the magazine to steal a quick glance at the men. Tommy was leaning on the desk, a smile dancing on his handsome face, attempting to charm the airline employee. Oliver, meanwhile, had slung his bag over his shoulder, his abs creasing into his t-shirt as he bent down to retrieve Tommy’s carry-on. _You are such a perv_ , Felicity thought, a familiar feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach as she watched him. Although it hadn’t been long since she had last seen him, the years had undeniably gone in his favor. The stubble he was wearing was the only indication that any time had actually passed since they'd last spoken.

His fingers drummed on the desk as he waited for Tommy to work his magic, a comfortable rhythm that Felicity instantly recognized from where she was sat. He surveyed the people waiting to board, doing a casual sweep of the room.

At that moment, a kid ran past Felicity, knocking her magazine from her hands and causing her to let out a yelp. A loud yelp. An _embarrassingly_ loud yelp, actually.

She scrambled to pick the magazine up and get back to retaining her anonymous, unidentifiable position. But it was too late. She risked a glimpse at Oliver, who sure enough had followed the sound of the ruckus. His eyes locked onto hers, a flicker of confusion flying across his face. Before Felicity even had time to respond with a smile, or something, _anything_ , Oliver had turned back to his friend.

After what felt like an eternity, the airline employee gave Tommy a nod and a slip of paper exchanged between her and Tommy (a phone number, if Tommy was still up to his old tricks), the men headed through the passport gate and disappeared up the jet bridge.

Felicity finally released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in.

-

Felicity stumbled through the crowds as she tried to speed through the terminal, her stomach leading the way having gone nearly 16 hours without food. Her eye caught Oliver Queen making his way to the baggage claim, concentrating intently on his phone screen.

When she first found out she was moving to Starling City, she guessed it was inevitable that she’d see him again. Taking a job at his family’s company, the one with his celebrated last name emblazoned at the top of the high-rise building, was bound to leave room for an awkward ‘ _hey, do I know you?’_ situation sooner or later.

She grabbed her bag from the belt and set off towards the taxi rank, leaving being Oliver and any prospect for an awkward talk.

-

It had taken her just over an hour to get from the airport to her apartment and into a pair of yoga pants, a glass of red wine in her hand. She’d seen a Big Belly Burger just a few blocks from her building and was for a moment debating whether or not to slip on her coat and venture out, but the red wine had a magnetic pull that was _so much_ stronger.

“Priorities,” she’d noted, sifting through the kitchenware box to retrieve the corkscrew. She’d sent her house items through a few weeks earlier via courier, and felt slightly more at home as she pulled out dishware that reminded her of her mom’s home in Vegas.

After an hour or so of unpacking, she settled onto the couch and pulled out her phone. Five texts from her mom greeted her, asking if she’d got there safe, and just one text from Cooper. Her thumbs flew over the keyboard, replying to her mom quickly and letting her know she’d call home tomorrow morning. She paused when it came to Cooper’s text.

_How’s Starling? I miss you already._

She chewed her bottom lip and after some thought, tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, draining the last of her glass.

There was a sharp knock at her door, awakening her from her reprieve.

“One minute!” She called, pushing herself off of the couch. She scampered over to the door, throwing a quick glance at the mirror hanging in the hallway. What if it was a cute neighbor asking her if she needed any help with unpacking? She wiped the black smudge of mascara away from under her eye, somewhat satisfied with the comfy, yet flattering yoga pants and one of Cooper’s old shirts she hadn’t had the heart to throw out. Just an ‘active’ enough combination to trick anyone into thinking she frequented the gym, whilst keeping cute and adorably ready for anything. With one last glance in the mirror, Felicity rolled her eyes at her misplaced confidence.

“Get a grip, Smoak, it’ll just be an old lady trying to find a cat,” she muttered to herself, flinging the door open.

_Oh god._

Of course.

Oliver Queen.

Flight sharer and leather wearer Oliver Queen stood at her doorstep, a suitcase remarkably similar to the one flung in her bedroom closet next to him.

Definitely not a neighbor.

“Felicity Smoak?”

Oh god.

He remembered her.

“Yeah, uh, can I help you?” Felicity cleared her throat, praying to any higher power listening that she appeared cool, collected, and not like she’d spent her entire time at college staring at the man waiting on her doorstep.

“Well, I hope so. I think I’ve picked up your suitcase? This-” He indicated to the pink sparkly luggage tag that Felicity instantly recognized as her mom’s, “-has your address on it. And I definitely don’t decorate my suitcase with pink ribbons. Got a reputation to uphold, you know?” He smiled, tugging on the satin ribbon tied to the handle, a Donna Smoak specialty.

Felicity drank in Oliver’s expression, her eyes landing on the suitcase next to him absently. Maybe he _didn’t_ remember her? Her name sounded foreign falling from his lips. A never-before used phrase, ‘ _Felicity Smoak_.’

A wash of relief overcame her body, which was swiftly replaced with the crushing feeling of discontentment.

Wait, was she _that_ forgettable? Sure, he’d been drunk that night, but she was certain he had at least been coherent. Certain that he’d remember… _something_. A night that had replayed in her head for the last three years was little more than a smudge in his memory.

Oliver cleared his throat, knocking Felicity back into the present with a jolt. He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Is this your case?” He nudged the suitcase towards her, his patience evidently wearing. Felicity flushed and pretended to scrutinize the bag, hoping to delay the inevitable embarrassment that _yes_ , she did pick up Oliver Queen’s suitcase, and _yes_ , it _was_ because she’d been too busy staring at Oliver Queen to even consider distributing some of her attention elsewhere.

“Yeah, that looks like my mom’s handiwork,” Felicity announced, desperately clawing at any semblance of composure. “I am _so_ sorry. I knew my mom decorated my suitcase for this exact reason but I guess I repressed it. Got a reputation to uphold too,” She lamely joked, rubbing her forehead. “I’ve just moved here.’ She chucked her thumb at the boxes piled across her living room, hoping that it would partially explain her frazzled mental state. Oliver scanned the room, nodding.

“Where from?” He asked. Felicity mentally applauded him for managing to sound vaguely interested.

“Las Vegas. Well, sort of, I’ve just graduated,” Felicity babbled, “but Vegas is my home.”

Oliver was just staring at her quizzically.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asked, his head tilted as he studied her. _There it is,_ Felicity thought, _and much earlier than anticipated._ “Have you been in Starling before?”

Felicity stiffened, toying with the pink ribbon on her suitcase as she attempted to compose a mature, clear response that would leave no room for additional questions. Keep it simple, bright. _Do not babble._

“Uh, no, never been in Starling. I’ve heard great things though. Really nice…parks and stuff. _Great_ nightlife. High crime rate. There might be a correlation between those two elements. Nope, a Starling City virgin over here,” Felicity laughed feebly, ignoring the rational part in her brain that was _begging her to stop talking_. She swallowed and closed her eyes. “No, uh, I don’t think we’ve met.”

“You sure?” He questioned, surveying her face intently, as if she was the million dollar question on a game show he _really_ wanted to win.

“Yes. I mean, I know who _you_ are, obviously. You’re Oliver Queen,” she continued, her voice catching momentarily as she spoke his name aloud for the first time in a _long_ time. “You’re heir to the Queen dynasty. You’re pretty much all over the tabloids.”

“I’ve definitely seen you somewhere around.”

Boy, he just would not let up. A change from the man she once knew, who had been too lazy to follow through on anything that involved work.

“I had an interview with Queen Consolidated a few weeks ago? It was just a video conference, couldn’t afford the air fare,” she offered, somewhat uncomfortable discussing money in-front of the city’s richest son. “Maybe you caught some of the interview? It was with the head of the IT department, Rich, I think?”

“You’re working at Queen Consolidated?”

_Finally,_ something Felicity was marginally happy to talk about.

“Yeah, I start next Monday. Just working as an assistant IT technician, but it’s a step into an expanding, successful company with benefits. Although, I don’t need to tell _you_ that,” she said sheepishly.

Glad the subject had been changed, she decided to turn the interrogation on him. “What were you doing in Vegas?” She asked in as light a tone as she could muster. “That is, if you were in Vegas. I just assumed you were, you know…same suitcase, same flight. Maybe?” _Casual, smooth, I definitely have not thought about you at all the last couple of years._

“Yeah, I was in Vegas for the weekend with my buddy,” Oliver lent against the doorframe, tucking one foot behind the other. _Getting comfortable?_ Felicity thought, as he continued, “We’re opening a club here in a few weeks and wanted to get the feel for the competition.”

“Competition?” Felicity furrowed her brow, “Vegas is at least four hours away from here.”

Oliver shrugged, tilting his handsome head to the side and flashing her a dazzling smile. “We’re optimistic. Besides, my friend just broke up with his girlfriend, and I think he just wanted to drown his sorrows. In strippers.”

Felicity grimaced.

“Well, Vegas and debauchery go hand in hand,” she summoned a smile, motioning to the bag next to him. “Should I take this off your hands for you?”

“Oh! Yeah,” Oliver maneuvered the case over the apartment threshold, allowing Felicity to pick it up and lug it further into the living room. She placed the case down on the couch and removed the pink ribbon hastily.

“Thanks Mom,” she grumbled, shoving the ribbon in her back pocket. She heard Oliver clear his throat and spun around to find him still lingering awkwardly in the doorframe. Felicity smacked her forehead as the realization hit her.

“Right! You want your bag back too, I’m sorry. It’s in my bedroom, I’ll go grab it,” she huffed, waving a head around the room. “You’re welcome to wait inside, if you want. Feel free to begin unpacking, I’ve got a lot of work to do,” she joked, heading towards the bedroom.

_You are so lame_ , she scolded herself, throwing her closet doors open and reaching for the suitcase. It was everything her suitcase wasn’t; plain, black, with the initials _OQ_ inscribed on the luggage tag. No address, no emergency contact, just two letters. Enough said.

She dragged the case out to the living room where Oliver was stood, holding a tiny teddy bear that she had laid on the coffee table.

“You went to Harvard?” Oliver asked abruptly.

Oh _frack._

Felicity made a poor attempt to feign innocence. “Hmm? Oh, no _. Nope_. Not me, I think you’ve got me confused-”

“This definitely says Harvard,” Oliver interrupted, motioning to the bear in his hand. It had been a graduation present from her mom, a small bear wearing a black cap and clutching a small, crimson flag that read Harvard.  “Or do you carry around memorabilia from all universities?”

His tone was soft, but the entirety of Felicity’s body clenched as the embarrassment set in.

_You graduated at the top of your class with a masters, you could’ve taken TWO SECONDS to check the damn suitcase you were taking from the airport, holy frack._

“Oh, _yes._ Sorry, I’m a little..tired. Jetlag,” she offered ,”Yeah, I went to Harvard.”

If Oliver could see through her thin excuse, then he didn’t display it. He touched the crimson flag fondly.

“That’s my alma mater too,” he said. “Maybe I know you from there? I graduated a couple of years ago?”

“I think…I think I might’ve tutored your friend? Tommy Merlyn?” Felicity admits. _No turning back now._ “I was a freshman when you were seniors, but I was advanced so…I helped out other students sometimes.”

Oliver clicked his fingers. “Yes! I remember you now. His English tutor, right?”

“Math,” Felicity corrected him.

“ _That’s_ it. You look a little different without the glasses.”

“Oh, I still wear them. They’re around here…somewhere,” she gestured around her chaotic apartment. Oliver’s expression was unreadable as he set down the Harvard bear back on her coffee table.

Felicity shuffled the suitcase over to him, trying to remain perky despite the awkwardness that had fallen on the apartment. “There you go. One pink ribbon-less, plain ol’ suitcase.”

“Thanks, Felicity,” Oliver grinned. She was quick to look away, knowing how dangerous it was succumbing to the charms of a Queen.

“You’re welcome.”

Oliver checked his watch quickly, sucking in a breath. “I should probably go. Tommy needs some help interviewing some DJ’s for the club. I don’t suppose you’d know anyone?”

Felicity scoffed. “Club DJ’s aren’t exactly my forte. Knowing how to fix a super computer, however, that’s _no_ problem. I guess that’s not so useful to you though.”

“You never know,” he replied with a wink. He began to move towards the door, before pausing. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Your shampoo leaked, by the way. I’ve taken some stuff out for my housekeeper to wash. I hope that’s okay?” he asked.

“You’ve…you’ve looked in my bag?!” Felicity could feel the blush creep onto her cheeks. What had she packed? Were her nicer bras on top? Knowing her luck, he’d seen the holey top she used as her pajamas and shown it to his socialite sister she was always reading about. _Who is this girl,_ Thea Queen would say, _and what hole has she crawled out of_? She could hear their cries of laughter from here.

“Well, I had to check it out, didn’t I? Make sure it wasn’t mine.” He cocked his head to the side, enjoying the warm color spreading across Felicity’s cheeks. “And those cute panda panties are definitely not mine.”

“Oh god,” Felicity mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Those panda panties aren’t, like, the underwear of my choice. They’re comfort panties, you know? Well, not that _you’d_ know,” Felicity stuttered, “Because you don’t wear…that sort of thing. I’ve seen you in the news; you seem like more of a thong man.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “I wasn’t aware that the news talks about the kind of underwear I like to wear.”

His voice was laced with amusement, but Felicity was still horrified. _Shut up shut up shut up._

“No! They don’t, obviously. Not at all. I just…I see the girls you like to be seen with. They don’t seem like the kind of girls that enjoying going to clubs with pandas emblazoned across their private parts.”

“It’s not something I’ve seen before, no,” Oliver said, his eyes glinting. He reached the front door. “I’ll let you know when your clothes are ready and drop them by. It was good to see you again, Felicity.”

“You too, Oliver. Good luck with the club and…sorry, again, about the mix up.”

He sent a nod her way and left, dragging his suitcase behind him. Felicity closed the door and rested her head against the wood, closing her eyes in despair.

“Well, _that_ could’ve gone better,” she mused aloud. Turning to face her now-empty apartment, she zeroed in on the empty wine glass sat on her table, next to the Harvard bear that had betrayed her just moments ago. Striding over, she picked up the glass and the commemorative plush toy in one swoop. The bear suddenly found itself hurtling through the air, landing behind the television set.

“Now you just stay there and think about what you did,” Felicity said reproachfully, pulling the red wine from the cupboard and filling her glass to what her mom had once dubbed a ‘boy-trouble sized’ measure.

“Welcome to Starling City,” she muttered, raising the glass to her lips and toasting herself.

 


	2. Of Panda Photographs and Trust Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who have reviewed, bookmarked, kudos'd and subscribed. You're the best kind of people.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy the next installment!

_May, 3 Years Earlier_

“You surely can’t have any more room in that great head of yours! Why are you _still studying_?” Sara moaned, flopping onto Felicity's bed and closing her eyes.

“Finals are in a week, Sara,” Felicity replied, “I still don’t have this formula down-“

“Oh _please_ ,” Sara cried in disbelief, “There is nothing about computers that Felicity Smoak does not know.”

Felicity chewed her pen, smiling fondly as she watched her blonde friend writhe around the bed dramatically.

“It’s eleven o clock, Smoak. Put the damn paper down and come out and have some fun! Laurel’s in town and she said Tommy’s throwing a graduation party at his house. Could be legendary.”

“Graduation? We haven’t even taken a test yet.”

“It’s ironic, I don’t know,” Sara waved a hand absently; “It’s supposed to be a last hurrah for the seniors.”

“Tommy’s got his math final in two days,” Felicity grumbled, scribbling incoherent notes onto her lined pad quickly, “If he doesn’t pass because of this party-“

“Relax!” Sara jumped onto Felicity’s desk and began to tidy away the piles of paper lining the top. She scanned a leaf of paper and pointed to Felicity’s incomprehensible scrawls, incredulous. “Look at all this! Does this even make _sense_ to you?”

“In a way,” Felicity took the paper away from her and shoved it under her notepad, slightly irritated.

“Look, you deserve a break, and I can’t think of a better way to take your mind off of formulas and…computer shit,” Sara frowned, “than to party the night away with a load of drunk, desperate seniors who just want to enjoy themselves one last time.”

Felicity considered it for a moment. “Sara, I-“

“Laurel said Oliver’s going to be there,” Sara countered, a teasing lilt affecting her tone. Felicity swallowed, biting her lip as she quickly returned her attention to the work. She tried to remain unaffected, but the numbers penned on the page in front of her were swimming.

“Why would I care if he’s there or not?”

Sara grinned. “You’re not _at all_ convincing.”

-

_3 years later_

Felicity raised her hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the early morning rays bounding off of the glass building in front of her.

Queen Consolidated.

She was finally here. Countless weeks of prep, three interviews with various members of the Queen consolidated IT department, two treacherous airplane journeys and a suitcase mix up later, and she’d _finally_ made it.

Pushing her glasses further up her nose, she inhaled a deep breath. Other employees were already milling in and around the lobby, clutching their polythene coffee cups whilst thumbing their smart phones.

“This is the big city, baby!”

Her mom’s words echoed in her head as she blinked up at the looming structure.

She tugged on the hem of her skirt, eyeing up the coffee stall located beside the building. She’d already had two coffees this morning, and she was feeling a little too jittery to risk another. Instead, she advanced towards the entrance, unfurling the scrap of paper in her palm that she’d studied the entire subway ride over to work.

 _Rich Silverman,_ she recited in her head, glancing down at her scrawled handwriting. _Rich Silverman, I’m here to see Rich Silverman._

She reached the security barriers and smiled at one of the guards.

“Hi, I’m Felicity Smoak, I’m here to see Rich Silverman?”

_Nailed it._

The guard eyed her warily. “You got a card?” He motioned toward the employee in the barrier next to her, who was swiping a plastic card through the scanner.

“Oh no, it’s my first day here, so no card,” she raised her hands in a surrendering manner. The guard paused for a moment, before turning his attention to his headset.

“Has Silverman got a Felicity Smoak comin’ in today?”

Felicity hummed a little as she waited for his response, shooting a friendly smile to an employee who approached the security barrier. The employee glared at her in response, returning her attention to the phone cradled in her hand.

 _I suppose beating that Candy Crush level is DEFINITELY more important than being polite_ , Felicity thought, discouraged. She watched as the guard nodded and swiped his security badge through the scanner, motioning her in.

“Rich is in a meeting but he’ll be down in a few minutes,” the guard, who Felicity had been informed by his name badge was called Michael, told her, “Could I see your bag please?

Felicity was puzzled. “Why?”

“It’s the policy,” Michael shrugged, “Ms Queen implemented it a few months ago. Gotta make sure our employees are clean. Nothin' personal.”

Felicity placed her bag onto the counter hesitantly and watched as Michael idly rifled through her belongings.

“This is all pretty intense for an office job,” Felicity observed, wincing as Michael picked her up a tub of hummus and shook it. “That’s just chickpea mush, I swear. No secret poison here.”

Michael shot her an unamused look.

“Ok, not in a joking mood, completely fair,” Felicity muttered.

“Felicity?”

Felicity plastered a wide smile on her face and span on her heel, expecting to see her new boss striding towards her. But the universe, _as it always did_ , had other ideas.

Oliver Queen, decked out in a slim fitting gray suit and looking like sex on steroids, nodded at the woman he had been talking to and ventured over to Felicity.

“Oliver,” she breathed, her smile faltering as he reached her.

“First day?” He asked.

“Yep. Already stress eating,” she indicated to the hummus tub sat on the counter, looking rather worse for wear after Michael’s unnecessary shaking. “I’m just waiting for my new boss, Sich Rilverman. _Rich Silverman_!” Felicity corrected herself quickly, groaning. She had been doing _so_ well.

“Head of IT?”

Felicity nodded.

“The heads of department all have a shareholders meeting first thing on a Monday,” Oliver explained, “I’m supposed to be in there, but I stayed late at the club last night. No rest for the wicked.”

His immaculately groomed stubble and bright eyes didn’t betray any lack of rest.

“Hey, has your mom got some trust issues by any chance?” she quipped, nodding to the security gates pointedly.

Oliver chuckled. “Something like that. Listen, I’ve got to run but I’m glad I bumped into you. Your clothes are all washed and most of the shampoo came out, I think. Should I drop them by later?” He asked hesitantly. Felicity’s eyes widened.

“Uh yeah. Yeah, I’ll be in,” she spluttered.

“Great. Good luck for today!” He called over his shoulder, heading towards the elevator and shaking hands with a suited man. Felicity flushed, her ‘thank you’ evaporating from her lips as he disappeared.

“Seems like you’re in with the boss already,” Michael smirked, holding out her bag. She snatched it quickly, her chance to deliver a clever retort scuppered by the arrival of her new boss.

 -

Felicity’s first day had gone a lot easier than expected. Her colleagues were all welcoming, and it was always a positive being surrounded by people as enamored by computers as she was. She’d even been able to fix a laptop that Rich had been toying with for a week or so, in a matter of minutes. It was an issue with a bug that Felicity had encountered numerous times before, but Rich seemed impressed with her abilities.

Arriving home to her apartment, she made an immediate beeline towards the cookie cupboard. Pulling out a cookie from the tin Donna had smuggled into her packing, she flicked the coffee pot on and glanced through her mail. A couple of flyers, some mail addressed to whom she assumed was the previous occupant of the apartment, a small parcel from her mom which she hoped contained the lead to her laptop which she had forgotten, and a small, sleek black envelope that read just her name.

Frowning, she flipped the envelope over and pushed her finger under the seal. She pulled the card out and squinted, trying to read the gray font against the black background.

“Who in _hell_ is going to be able to read that?” She wondered aloud, fixing her glasses. After holding the card up to the light, she could just about read the message etched in gray.

 _Verdant_  
Midnight  
1 st October

“Minimalist,” she scoffed, reaching for her tablet and pulling up the internet. A quick web search told her that Verdant was the club that Oliver had mentioned he was opening with Tommy.

She wasn’t exactly the nightclub kind of girl. She loved drinking, _obviously,_ but she was much happier with a glass of pinot than with a vodka shot. Cooper had always told her she was a forty year old trapped in a twenty year old body.

Her phone chirped, a sound that dragged Felicity away from falling into that particular emotional pit. She plucked her phone from the side, expecting Donna’s standard, extensively ‘emojied’ text she had sent her daughter every day whilst Felicity had been at college. Her heart sank when she read the name.

_Spoke to your mom today. She told me you started work? How did it go? You running the company yet?_

Cooper’s insistence that they remain in each other’s lives had been sweet at first; a life raft in a sea of broken hearts and tear-soaked tissues. However it was beginning to irritate her. How was she supposed to move on and make a clean break if he was still talking to her mom, still texting her and reminding her that no matter how far she flew, he’d always follow her?

_It’s going great. First day was fun, really think I’m going to like it here. Not quite CEO yet._

Felicity examined her response. Casual enough, doesn’t invite too many questions. Is it too cold?

_Miss you._

_No, nope, that’s not cold enough_ , Felicity frowned, hastily deleting her added words and sighing. Moving to the cupboard, she pulled out her favourite mug and distractedly poured herself a cup of coffee. How was she going to politely tell Cooper that their communications needed to stop?

Her ruminations were interrupted by a tap on the door. She placed the cup of coffee on the counter and went to open the door. She was greeted by a sour faced brunette in a black pantsuit, a PalmerPad in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.

“Are you Felicity Smoak?” the brunette asked sharply.

“Uh yeah-“

“Mr Queen told me to give these to you,” the brunette interrupted, shoving the grocery bag into Felicity’s hands clumsily, ”Some clothes you left at his?”

Felicity flushed. “Oh no, I didn’t leave them at his. They were in my suitcase. Which was _technically_ at his, but I wasn’t wearing the clothes at his house. I should clarify, I haven’t actually _been_ to his house. I have not slept with Oliver,” Felicity tried to chase the words as they tumbled from her mouth, but to no avail. The brunette raised a perfectly shaped brow in bored judgement. She’d undoubtedly heard the same thing from the doorways of the countless women that Oliver Queen had been with.

 _Nice to be on that ‘exclusive’ list_ , Felicity grumbled inwardly. She guessed that the woman stood in-front of her was Oliver’s assistant, the same woman she’d seen with him this morning in the lobby of Queen Consolidated

“Whatever,” the brunette shrugged, swiping her finger across her PalmerPad, “I’m just returning the clothes.”

“Ok. Well, thanks,” Felicity mumbled. Oliver’s assistant replied with an uninterested nod and left.

Felicity closed the door and hurled the bag onto her couch. She pulled out the garments to find two chiffon blouses, a pair of black slacks and her favourite purple bra. Well, if Oliver was going to see any bra at all, she thanked the higher powers that it had been this one. She turned the bag upside down, in case a sneaky sock fell out. Instead, an envelope similar to the club invite tumbled gently from the bag. She scooped it from the couch and tugged it open.

_Felicity,_

_I’m sorry I couldn’t bring the clothes back myself, I’ve been swamped at the club. Hope they’ve all come up OK._

_Oliver_

Felicity pursed her lips and folded the small note up. The gesture was sweet, and it meant she could avoid word vomiting all over him for a little bit longer.

-

A few days into her new job, Felicity was hunched over a laptop, designing a new computer programme that, when up and running, would reduce spam and keep Queen Consolidated’s emails safe from any outside hacking agencies. That’s how Rich had explained it when he had first assigned the task to her, anyway.

“Is Queen Consolidated hacked that often?” Felicity had asked, a little wary of the project.

“It’s just part of Ms. Queen’s overturn of Queen Consolidated. She wants to radicalize the way the business is run, and we in the IT department are integral to keeping the employees in the building safe,” Rich responded.

Felicity frowned, her brow crinkling. “Safe from what?”

Rick shrugged apologetically. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

So she had begun the programming, no less suspicious of the activities happening within the management at Queen Consolidated. She knew that Oliver’s father, Robert Queen had passed away a year or so ago. They had ruled the car crash an accident, and there was no suggestion that foul play had been involved. She made a mental reminder to look up Robert Queen on the internet later.

“Felicity?”

Oliver’s voice made her jump out of her seat.

Felicity set her the laptop down onto her desk and glimpsed up to see Oliver, a perfect picture in a navy suit, stood by her cubicle. She could hear some mumbles from her co-workers, shocked to see their boss’s son in their vicinity.

“Oliver? What’re you doing here?” She tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, pushing her ponytail over her shoulder and inwardly begged that her lipstick was still in place. Her eyes darted to her coffee mug, spotting the pink mark of betrayal on the rim.

“I thought I’d come and see how you’re settling in down here. Plus, I’ve got a meeting with my mom and I’m trying to put it off for as long as possible,” Oliver offered, lowering his voice for the sake of the rest of the office.

“Well, I’m just doing techie things, nothing too taxing,” Felicity swept her hand across the desk. She cleared her throat. “Thanks for the clothes, by the way. Your assistant was..” she paused, searching for the suitable words, “…very pleasant.”

Oliver smirked. “Tamara’s not the friendliest person in the world, I’ll give you that, but she gets the job done. I’m barely in the office anymore, what with the club and all. She spends half her time chasing me around Starling.”

_Lucky girl._

“Speaking about the club,” Felicity began, twisting her hands together, “Thank you for the invite to the opening night, _great_ font, but I’m not sure I’m going to be able to make it.”

“Oh. Why’s that?”

“Uh..” Felicity scrambled, “My mom’s in town visiting. She’s not really a nightclubbing fan.”

Well that was a _blatant_ lie. Her mother, a cocktail waitress in Vegas, was the life and soul of any party.

Oliver nodded, looking slightly disappointed. 

“Well, if you can’t come, I wondered if you’d be able to do me a favor tonight?”

“Uh, sure," Felicity bit her lip in anticipation.

“Come to 145 Pointer Avenue. It’s in an old abandoned steel factory my family owns, in the Glades?”

Felicity’s eyes widened.

“I should explain, it’s not as creepy as it sounds,” Oliver laughed, a sound which made Felicity melt, “It’s where our club is. We need some help setting up a couple of things, and I remember you saying that super computers were your sort of thing?”

“Oh. Yeah, absolutely,” Felicity blushed.

“Great. Can you come along tonight?”

Felicity nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out his chiming cell phone, pulling a face as he saw the caller.

“It’s my mom. I should probably head back up. I’ll see you tonight?” He said, answering the call and ducking out of the IT department. Felicity opened her laptop back up and scanned the programme she had been working on, trying to ignore the questioning stares emanating from her colleagues.

-

Felicity thanked the cab driver and glanced around her whereabouts. Oliver had sent her to an alley? Felicity scanned the buildings beside her, all of which looked derelict and certainly not ready to host a club ran by the Queen/Merlyn dynasty. She trod carefully, narrowly avoiding a puddle which would have drenched her best suede heels.

“Felicity!”

Felicity spun quickly to see Oliver poking his head out of a window. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, looking slightly ridiculous with what looked like a stripe of black paint across his brow. “Come round the back and I’ll let you in.”

 _The back?_ Felicity wasn’t sure if she even knew where the _front_ of this place was. She warily walked further down the alley and peeked around the corner, eventually spotting the Verdant sign. Oliver swung a door open and ushered her in.

“Sorry. Have you been outside long?” He asked, taking her coat from her and placing it on a rack beside the door. Felicity shook her head and removed the mittens from her hands. “The CCTV is still kind of glitchy, but I didn’t want to miss you.”

Felicity’s stomach flipped and she averted her gaze from his, shoving the mittens into her bag and hastily changed the subject. “Nice place. Can’t go wrong with a grungy alleyway.”

Oliver smirked. “It’s not ideal,” He agreed, “But the place belonged to my family. It seemed cheaper to renovate then to start fresh.”

He led her down a long hallway, kicking bits of plywood and plaster out of the way. “Anyway, we need a few technical things fixing before the opening next week. Wifi, the security cameras, that sort of thing,” he smiled as they reached a double door, “Is that okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Great. You can choose your payment,” he bumped her shoulder playfully, before pushing the double doors open. The club was still an empty shell; the walls were half painted, there were boxes upon boxes stacked high on the bar counter, and the wooden floor could’ve done with a sweep or two. Felicity couldn’t hide her shock.

“You open next week?!” She squeaked.

“Yeah, that trip to Vegas suddenly seems a bit unnecessary now,” Oliver noted. Felicity caught the annoyance that tinged his voice. “Especially,” he continued, moving to check some papers laying by the DJ booth, “now that Tommy’s back with his ex. You might know her, actually. Laurel, Laurel Lance?”

Of course she knew who Laurel was. Tommy had spent almost every tutoring session lamenting over the oldest Lance sister and her lack of interest. Things had seemingly changed in Tommy’s favor since graduation.

 “She didn’t go to Harvard,” Oliver continued, flicking stray plywood flecks from a nearby countertop, “She’s from Starling City.”

“I know. I was friends with her sister, actually. Sara Lance?” Felicity asked casually. Felicity had befriended Sara, during her first semester at Harvard, after a laundry mix up in the halls laundromat. Sparky and full of fire, Sara had been the perfect person to balance Felicity’s shy nature.

“Yeah, I know her. We still see her, every now and then. She’s been travelling,” Oliver smiled fondly. “She’s actually coming to the club opening.”

“Ollie!” Tommy Merlyn’s voice boomed from above Oliver and Felicity. They looked up to see him leaning against the balcony, pointing to the lighting rig. “Can you stand in the middle of the dancefloor, please? The guy’s trying to rig the spotlight and needs a warm body.”

“Sure.”

Felicity watched as Oliver and Tommy played with the spotlight for a few minutes, chasing it around the club. She pulled her phone from her bag and opened a new picture message from Cooper. Her old panda bear flashed up on the screen.

_Look who I found! He misses you._

Her stomach dropped. Cooper had presented her with the panda bear on their first anniversary, aware of her undying adoration for the animal. It had been her most favourite thing in the world. She had made sure to bury it in her ‘Cooper’ box when they’d split, filled with memorabilia from their time together. How he now had it in his possession, she had no idea.

“You OK?” Oliver asked cautiously. His eyes traveled to the phone in Felicity’s hand. She locked the screen quickly and pushed it into her bag, fixing a smile onto her face.

“Yeah, fine. Everything sorted with the lights?” She responded as brightly as she could.

“Hope so.”

Tommy appeared from the doorway and grabbed a glass from the counter.

“Drink?” He called over to Oliver and Felicity. Oliver looked at Felicity, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“I probably shouldn’t. It’s a school night,” she joked, pulling on a thread from her sweater. Tommy poured two scotches, walked over to them and handed Oliver a glass.

“To spotlights,” Tommy declared, downing the drink in one. Oliver coked an eyebrow and quickly followed suit, slamming his glass on the table and exhaling a whisky-laden breath.

“I’m gonna go check on the cameras. Back in a sec,” Oliver nodded to Felicity and Tommy, excusing himself.

Tommy turned to the quiet blonde and offered her a hand.

 “You must be the baggage claim girl.”

“Felicity Smoak,” Felicity said, shaking his hand, “We’ve met before, actually. I tutored you.”

A puzzled expression etched onto his handsome face.

“I tutored you?” Felicity repeated, “For like, an entire semester? In Math?”

God, this was _terrible_. Sure, to someone like Tommy Merlyn she was technically a ‘nobody’, but she had definitely remembered helping him get a B on his final exam. All for nothing.

“Oh, so _that’s_ what Oliver was talking about,” Tommy clapped his hands together in realization, “I’m sorry. I had a lot of tutors to get me through college. I’ve forgotten a large majority of my time at Harvard. I blame the alcohol,” Tommy shrugged. To his credit, he looked convincingly apologetic.

“That’s OK.”

 “Hey, I’ll make it up to you. How about five free vodka shots at our opening next week?” Tommy offered, his eyes twinkling.

“That’s very…kind,” Felicity tried to mask her grimace, “But I can’t come to the opening. My mom’s in town.”

“Not a problem. Bring her along,” Tommy winked.

“Felicity?” Oliver called, “Could you come here for a second?”

Felicity smiled at Tommy and followed Oliver’s voice to a darkened room just away from the dance floor. An entire wall was covered in large television monitors, some of which were glitching and creating a strobe-like pulsation that bounced off every corner of the room. Felicity winced a little, blinking as her eyes adjusted. Oliver was in a corner, typing at a laptop and glancing at the monitors adorning the wall, his eyes as quick as a dart.

“You Queens definitely have issues with security,” she muttered, drawing Oliver’s attention away from his laptop.

“Well, you can never be too careful,” he responded, “My father taught me that.”

Felicity froze at the mention of Robert Queen.

“There seems to be an issue with the CCTV stream that I can’t get sorted. The guys who installed this,” he motioned to the monitors, “tried to fix the glitches but gave up. Said it would sort itself out, but it hasn’t. I thought, why not stick our newest IT employee on it?”

Felicity shuffled her shoes. “How do you know I’m any good?”

“Hey, if you managed to get Tommy to pass a math exam, you must be pretty good,” Oliver grinned. He touched her shoulder lightly as he passed her, a gentle sign of thanks.

Felicity set her bag down and pulled up the chair, flexing her fingers as she readied herself. She glanced quickly at the servers, taking note of the technology Oliver had purchased. It was military level equipment, first class technology Felicity had only dreamt of using. Oliver must've spent thousands of dollars on the security for the club. She recalled what he had said to her earlier, _'I remember you saying that super computers were your sort of thing?'_.  As she cautiously got to work, one thought spiraled in her mind.

_What kind of night club needs a super computer?_

_-_


	3. Gone Schmoozing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to all those who have responded to this story. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Things are going to get tricky for our favorite IT girl.

_February, 3 Years Ago_

“I’m never going to get this,” Tommy moaned, his head falling onto the table in frustration. Felicity removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes, suppressing a yawn. Her eyes darted to the clock hanging on the library wall. 12:07.  

“It’s OK. It’s not easy,” she reassured him, closing the textbook.

“It’s easy for you,” he mumbled from the tabletop, “You can just reel off quadratic equations like  _that_.” He clicked his fingers for emphasis. Felicity pressed her lips together. She had been tutoring Tommy a month already, and nothing was getting through to him.

“Just got to keep at it,” Felicity responded weakly, packing her books away in the hope that Tommy would get the hint and  _finally_  call it a night. He was usually the first one out of the door at the end of their sessions, but today he seemed different.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted, lifting his head from the table and locking eyes with Felicity. He looked like a sad puppy.

“Everything OK?” she asked. She and Tommy weren’t exactly friends, but she knew that she could lend a friendly shoulder to cry on if needs be, no extra charge to his father who sent her the paychecks.

“You’re a girl, right?” Tommy asked suddenly. Felicity was taken aback, making a mental reminder to wear a skirt the next tutoring session.

“I believe so, yes,” she said dryly.

“Why do girls try and play a game with you? They like you one minute, the next they don’t. Out with you one night, talking to another boy the next day.I'm getting kind of fed up with playing a game with her.”

Sighing, Felicity looked at Tommy. He’d been lamenting on about this girl for the past few tutoring sessions, and Felicity had reached the limit of her patience.

“There’s your problem. It’s _not_ a game. You are not a player, and neither is the girl you’re after. Just…appreciate her, and if it’s meant to be, she’ll see that too.”

Tommy frowned, letting her words sink in. “You make it sound so easy.”

Felicity smiled. “Put it this way, it’s easier than anything you’ll find in these textbooks.”

-

 “You close with Queen?” Rich asked Felicity the next day, hovering by her desk. She quickly exited her browser, not keen for Rich to see she’d been prying into when she was supposed to be working on the new security programme.

"What?"

“You and Oliver Queen. Seemed pretty cosy when he was here yesterday. I didn’t think he even knew where the IT department was,” Rich quipped, folding his arms.

“We knew each other in college. Sort of,” Felicity explained, deciding against giving him the full story. “Is that…is that going to be a problem?”

“Not at all!” Rich answered, slightly confused, “I thought it might be an advantage, actually. You know, when it comes to Christmas bonuses, it could be really helpful to have a Queen on our side.”

“Got it,” she chuckled. When he’d returned to his office, she hastily re-typed  _Robert Queen_  into the search bar and waited to be greeted by the results. She clicked onto the first article, a statement released by Moira Queen and her children last year.

_The Queen Family are devastated at the loss of Robert. A wonderful husband, father, and businessman, we will miss him immeasurable amounts. It is with great sadness that we ask you to respect our privacy during this tragic time._

Felicity’s heart ached for Oliver, for his sister. Her own dad had left her and her mom when she was seven, and the pain attached to the memories of him was still deep-seated, entangled in her bones. A familiar feeling, like a ghost, settled over her as she exited the article and decided perhaps it was best not to look into missing fathers.

-

It had taken some convincing from Tommy, whom she’d bumped into at the grocery store, to go to the club opening.

“What about your mom?” Oliver had asked her when he’d popped by the IT department the day before the event, happy to hear she’d changed her mind. Felicity had mumbled a very feeble excuse about her mom getting the wrong date (something which Donna had been known to get wrong before, due to her lack of technological skills), and was secretly pleased to be going to Verdant. She didn’t really know anyone in the city apart from Tommy and Oliver, and it was a chance for her to keep an eye on the computers she’d helped the boys set up.

The night of the opening, Felicity titled her head as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her usually frazzled head of curls had been tamed and were now soft and sleek, brushing over one shoulder delicately. After much deliberation, she had settled on a simple, black dress paired with red heels to give her outfit a much needed pop of color. She applied one last sweep of crimson lipstick and grabbed her clutch from the bathroom counter.

She was  _nervous_. Nervous to see Oliver, nervous to see Sara, nervous to be packed in a club with inebriated youths grinding against one another. It had been a while since she’d frequented the club scene, a fact she knew Sara was admonish her for. She swiped a finger across her phone screen to unlock it, and typed out a quick text to her mom. Donna would be ecstatic knowing Felicity was attempting to create a social life in Starling, wearing a little black dress and ‘power heels’, as Donna had coined it.

She hailed a taxi outside her apartment and settled in the back, her leg bouncing with apprehension. Her phone chirped in her hand.

_Have a good time tonight._

Cooper? Felicity hadn’t spoken to Cooper in a week or so, hoping that he’d got the message and had left her to get over him by herself. In fact, the more time she spent in Starling City, the less she’d thought about him. The twinge of loneliness she’d felt in her stomach when she’d first arrived was fading fast.

_Thanks. You been speaking to my Mom?_

His reply was instant.

_Yeah. See you soon._

She stared at her phone screen, an uneasy feeling creeping over her. She switched her phone off and threw it into her clutch, determined to have a good time without Cooper’s aloofness ruining things for her  _again_.

“We’re here, ma’am,” the taxi driver said over his shoulder. Felicity pressed a ten dollar bill into his palm and thanked him, tugging her dress down and opening the taxi door. The place was packed already, a long line forming around the corner. Felicity let the cool air dance upon her skin as she inhaled a deep breath. The grungy alleyway had been transformed; fairy lights had been strung around the building, the soft twinkling harmonizing with the muted thud of music pounding from the walls.

As she approached the queue, she noticed Tommy was stood on the door, a tray of shot glasses in hand. His eyes lit up as she saw her, gesturing her over. She was very aware of the eyes of those queuing looming on her, but she fixed her gaze onto Tommy’s.

“Felicity! You look great,” he professed, leaning over the give her a kiss on the cheek, his citrus aftershave lingering. He nodded to the bodyguard next to him. “She used to tutor me at Harvard!”

Tommy ushered her in, handing her a shot glass and throwing her a wink. She smiled at him, pushing the anxious feeling further into her stomach. Her eyes peeked at the two cameras positioned above the main club entrance, watched as they swivelled in conjunction with the motion from the club visitors.  _At least they’re working,_ she thought, passing her black blazer to the cloakroom attendant and entering the main room.

“Here goes nothing,” she mumbled, bringing the shot to her lips and throwing her head back. She spluttered as the liquid burned her throat.

Returning the shot glass to the nearest bar, she purchased a drink of vodka lemonade. She perched on a free bar stool and began watching the club-goers revel on the dance floor, swirling her drink with a straw. She didn’t recognize anyone immediately. 

 _Maybe I should’ve invited someone?_ She thought, sipping her drink.  _Rich could’ve come? Or the woman that lives down the hall from me? She seemed fun…if a little senile._

“Hey there,” a man interrupted her thoughts by placing a warm hand on her shoulder, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh, that’s nice of you, but I’ve got one, thanks,” Felicity replied, shaking the drink in her hand for emphasis. The guy was handsome enough, but she hadn’t been chatted up in a long time. Despite her polite decline, the guy took the seat next to her anyway and signaled to the barman, asking for two shots. When they had been poured, her admirer pushed one towards her and nodded expectantly. Felicity shifted in her seat, beginning to get uncomfortable. No matter whether you were from Vegas or Starling, men could still be insistent.

“I’m OK, honestly,” she began, but the guy shook his head.

“It’s just a shot. You don’t wanna have any fun, blondie?” He teased, downing his shot in one and bidding her to do the same.

“I’m having fun. Thanks for your concern, though,” she spat back, her eyes searching for the nearest exit in case this guy decided to get, well,  _grabby_.

The guy reached for her hand and uncurled it, placing the shot glass in her clasp.

“It’s not hard. C’mon-“

His pleading was disrupted by another hand, strong and resilient, reaching in between them and taking the glass from Felicity’s grasp. She turned to find Oliver downing the shot himself, depositing the glass on the bar top and clapping Felicity’s admirer on the back.

“Can I help you, man?” The guy demanded, wincing from the contact.

“Would you mind if I have a word with my friend for a moment,  _man_?” Oliver asked, adopting a friendly expression. They guy, upon realizing who Oliver was, admitted defeat and skulked off.

“You OK?” Oliver asked, concern washing over his features as he took a seat on the stool next to Felicity. She nodded.

“Yeah. Thanks for helping, though. Not sure if he was ever going to get the message,” she laughed weakly. She could feel Oliver’s gaze bore into her, so hastily changed the subject. “The place looks great. You and Tommy really pulled it out the bag.”

“Thanks,” Oliver replied, before adding, somewhat shyly, “You look really nice tonight. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Felicity flushed. Her eyes traveled to his hand as he tapped out a rhythm on the counter, making her heart swoop at how familiar it seemed. It transported her back to those long nights in the library, watching him fondly as he and Tommy attempted to study. His tap, his nervous tick, his only sign of weakness, and here he was, doing it again whilst talking to her.

"You seen Sara yet?" He asked, as the barman placed a scotch in front of him, forcing him to stop tapping.

"No, is she here?" Felicity asked excitedly. 

"Yeah, she's around, with Laurel, I think. Best look out for Tommy, because he'll no doubt be following Laurel around."

"Hey, give him some credit," Felicity smiled, "I've seen him schmoozing. What've  _you_  been doing, huh? No welcome at the door, no free drinks. I think you're slacking, Mr Club Owner."

Her sudden bold attitude was definitely thanks to the alcohol making her feel light and sparky. She couldn't deny relishing in the smile that found Oliver's face as she teased him. Being happy really suited him. 

“You’re right. I should probably head out and get my schmoozin’ head on,” he hopped off the bar stool and polished off his scotch. He inclined his head towards hers, his breath tickling her neck at their close proximity. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

Felicity could only stutter in reply, following him as he assumed his club-owner stance and sauntered towards a crowd of pretty girls who had been fluttering their eyelashes at him all night. She sank the rest of the vodka down and set off in search for Sara.

-

It had been half an hour, and Felicity hadn’t located her estranged friend in the club. She had, however, spotted Thea Queen, Oliver’s younger sister who was definitely not old enough to be in in the club, looking gorgeous in a sequined navy blue dress. _To have money,_ Felicity had sighed, picking at a fraying thread hanging from her own dress.

“Felicity!” Tommy grabbed her arm, slightly breathless.

“Everything Ok?!” she asked, eyes wide with worry.

“Yeah, sorry. Jogging the length of the club really takes it out of you,” he exhaled, swallowing a gulp of air and composing himself. “According to Mr Diggle, the security cameras have stopped working, and I wondered if, since you set them up, you’d be able to take a look?”

“Mr Diggle?” Felicity frowned.

“Head of security for the club. Military man, biceps like _whoa_ ,” Tommy grasped his own undeniably impressive arms for measure. Felicity took one last glance around the club for Sara, before agreeing.

“Sure, I’ll take a look.”

-

 “I should  _really_  start charging overtime,” Felicity grumbled, pushing the door open. A tall, well-built figure was stood surveying the wall of monitors, his palms flat on the metal desk. His eyes darted to where the blonde stood, his arm reaching for the handgun resting in his holster.

“Can I help you?” He demanded gruffly. Felicity tore her eyes away from the gun and plastered a shaky smile on her face.

“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone would be in here. Tommy said there was a problem with the cameras? I helped set the system up,” she explained hurriedly, desperate for his hand to stop hovering over his holster.

The man eyed her attire and shot her a skeptical look.

“I work at the IT department at Queen Consolidated,” she continued, pulling her dress down, mindful of how little she looked like an IT assistant.

The man seemed to relax. “Felicity Smoak, right?”

“Yes,” Felicity said, relived. She edged further into the room, not wanting to test the man’s patience. He may’ve eased off but he was still a  _very_  big man with a  _very_ big gun.

“I’m John Diggle,” he offered her his hand, “Head of security.”

“Oh, yes. Tommy mentioned you,” Felicity smiled. She reached the main computer and set her clutch down on the side, flexing her fingers and cracking her neck.

“Everything was working fine until a few minutes ago. The computer screens started to switch off erratically,” John explained, “Like, one switched off as another came on. No pattern that I could see. I think it’s stopped now, though.”

Felicity scanned the screens, wishing she’d stashed her glasses in her clutch as the images started to swim. Blinking quickly, she pulled up the diagnostics report that John had presumably requested before she’d arrived.

“This could take a while,” she murmured.

“You hungry?” John asked suddenly.

“A little,” Felicity replied, rubbing her stomach. She’d made the decision to forgo carbs for a few days before the club opening in order to fit into her dress, but her stomach had made it known that it was not _at all_ pleased with that idea.

“You like Big Belly Burger?”

As soon as Felicity’s five favorite words tumbled out of Mr Diggle’s mouth, she was nodding enthusiastically and retrieving a ten dollar bill from her purse.

-

“So how does a guy with an active military background end up working for a nightclub owned by Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn?” Felicity asked, dropping a gloriously greasy fry into her mouth. She’d kicked her heels off and was resting her feet on the desk, waiting for the system to finish running its analysis.

John smirked, wiping his mouth with a napkin and setting his burger down.

“I got injured on my second tour in Afghanistan. Broke my leg and got a load of shrapnel through my shoulder, right here,” he pointed to his right shoulder, grimacing, “It could’ve been a _lot_  worse. I wanted to help people, and my country, but I also wanted to be a father, and a husband.  So, my wife and I came home, and my brother helped me get a job in personal security. A few months down the line, with the help of some Merlyn connections, the Queens hired me, and here I am.”

Felicity chewed on a mouthful of burger thoughtfully.

“But, a nightclub, though?”

“I’m Oliver’s bodyguard, too,” Diggle chuckled, “Pulling double duty. Mrs Queen asked me to keep an eye on him, and this is the place where he spends most of his time. Seemed like a logical job choice.”

“I didn’t realize the Queen family were so…security-conscious,” Felicity said, licking some ketchup from her index finger. “Work is  _insane_. Bag checks every day, using IDs to access different floors and rooms, metal detectors at the entrance. I know it’s supposed to make the employees feel safe, but I don’t know…it makes me feel the opposite. Like there’s something I should be afraid of that I don’t know about.”

“Well, after what happened last year…” Diggle trailed off.

“You mean with Robert Queen?”

John just looked at her.

“I thought it was an accident,” Felicity said, her voice almost a whisper.

At that moment, a sharp knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Tommy poked his head around, looking slightly frantic.

“You guys seen Ollie anywhere?”

Both Diggle and Felicity shook their heads. Tommy raked his hands through his hair, groaning.

“Guy couldn’t stay at the club for an  _hour_ without taking off with a girl. He’s impressive, but the bar’s getting crowded. I’d better go find Thea,” he sighed, “You guys OK in here? Is everything sorted?”

“Almost,” Felicity replied, swinging her legs from the desk and examining the screen, “Just finishing the scan and then the system should be as good as new.”

“Brilliant. Thanks for your help!” He called as he retreated down the hallway, his voice disappearing into the thud of music wafting from the dance floor.

“I should probably try and find Oliver,” Diggle declared, wiping his hands on the napkin and dumping it in the container with the half-finished burger, “I’ve got some guys on the floor anyway. They can handle it if things get crazy.”

“Tommy said he’s just with a girl,” Felicity said, trying to sound cheery, when the words tasted like copper on her tongue. She played with a curl distractedly as she tried not to sound like she cared. Which she didn’t.  _At all._

Diggle plucked his coat which had been strewn across the desk chair and shrugged it on.

“Still, I should make sure he’s safe. Got to make a living, you know? You gonna be OK in here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she waved a hand, “I’ll just finish my burger and head back home, I think.”

“Well, stay safe,” he said, heading towards to the door, “It was nice to meet you, Felicity. Oliver was right about you.”

She frowned as she watched John turn the corner. What was  _that_  supposed to mean?

-

Felicity awoke with a start the next morning, trying to catch her breath. In her dream, she’d be chasing Robert Queen down the hallway of Queen Consolidated, desperately trying to catch up with him. He’d stopped suddenly and turned, slowly, to face her.

“Cooper?” She’d whispered. Her ex, now wearing the suit Mr Queen had been wearing during their chase, moved towards her and tried to reach out, abruptly awakening her from her slumber.

Throwing the duvet to the side, she rolled out of bed and made a beeline toward her coffee maker. She sleepily flicked on her television, pulling the hair tie from her wrist and gathering her messy curls into a ponytail. After last night, she had promised herself a lazy Sunday filled with Chinese food and trashy television, and couldn’t wait to become re-acquainted with more than six hours of sleep.

She poured herself a strong cup of coffee and half-listened to the news. Hearing the name ‘Meryln’, her interested piqued and she turned the volume up.

“… _reports say that no-one was injured in the fire, and the Merlyn family have not yet released a statement about the arson attack. Merlyn Global Group, owned by business man Malcolm Merlyn, was seen leaving Starling City’s police station early this morning…’_

Felicity lifted the cup to her lips, feeling the hot steam drift up and warm her face.

“Poor Tommy,” she muttered. After a great opening night at the club, the last thing he’d want was an attack on his family company. Maybe these famous dynasties did need more security than she’d thought. She reached for her tablet and pulled up some pictures from the news segment. The Merlyn Global Group building was still relatively intact, although a couple of the floors about halfway up had unmistakably been ruined by the fire, crisp at the edges.

As she swiped through the photos, one in particular caught her eye. It was a picture captured from the security camera on the affected floor, right before the fire had been started. Underneath read the caption: _Police believe this man to be the assailant._

Felicity squinted, titling her tablet slightly to get a better angle on the grainy picture. A blurry figure stood in the middle of the frame, but that was about all she could make out. She clicked on the video footage that had been released, which was only a few moments long.

Despite the bad quality, it was evident to any watcher that the figure merely surveyed the floor and left, walking away from the direction of the security camera. But that was enough for Felicity to notice something which filled her stomach with dread.

The familiar rhythm the figure was tapping on his leg.

The nervous tick she knew so well.

 Oliver.


	4. Mask, Black Mask, Green Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late update! Life, as always gets in the way. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday period.  
> Thanks for all of your reviews, reads, and kudos' so far!  
> This chapter is full of Felicity with a sprinkle of Diggle and Oliver, but things are kicking into gear finally.

_March, 3 years ago_

“Here ya go,” Sara said, plonking down on the seat beside Felicity and sliding a coffee cup towards her, “Sorry it took so long, _insane_ line. Who would’ve though college students would require so much caffeine?”

Felicity grinned, warming her hands as she blew gently on the steaming liquid. “It’s our life force, Sara. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Sara replied, unscrewing her water bottle lid and taking a sip, “Although, it is a little concerning how much you rely on caffeine to get by. Do I need to have an intervention?”

Felicity paused for a moment, pretending to consider her friend's suggestion. “After finals, and then we’ll talk.”

Sara rolled her eyes playfully and flipped her notepad over, re-reading the notes she’d made earlier. “And _when_ will that be, exactly?” she groaned. Sara was a great student, but her ability to procrastinate was second to none.

“How much work do you think they’re actually doing?” Sara asked suddenly. Felicity glanced from her laptop to follow her friend’s eye line, her gaze falling on a group of men huddled around the one study table. In the mess of baseball jerseys and colorful hats, she could see Tommy scrolling idly through his phone, neglecting the open textbooks in front of him. Beside him sat Oliver Queen, brow furrowed as he scanned his work. With a visible exhale, he glanced up and in that moment, looked over and her and Sara.

Felicity’s mouth suddenly went dry, averting her eyes. In her peripheral vision, she could see Sara raise an arm and wave towards Oliver’s table.

“What’re you doing?” Felicity muttered, keeping her eyes firmly attached to the laptop screen ahead of her.

“Being friendly,” Sara said through a smile, “You tutor Tommy once a week and I know both Ollie and Tommy from back home. I’d say that constitutes a wave or two.”

Felicity’s eyes darted to the boys table again, catching them both sending dazzling smiles Sara’s way. 

"Ollie is kind of cute," Sara said lightly, resting her elbow on the table. Felicity swallowed and muttered something non-committal in response. She loved Sara, but the sparky blonde wasn't subtle. If Sara even caught a hint of Felicity's growing attraction to Tommy's best friend and Staring City's 'It Boy', she'd never hear the end of it.

"Don't you think?" Sara nudged her, eyes wide and glinting with delight.

"Yeah, he's cute," Felicity relented, "But he's also heir to the Queen fortune and has dated, like, ten thousand models."

"So? Tommy has dated, like 'ten thousand models' and now he's seeing Laurel. Boys can change," Sara countered.

"Isn't Laurel basically a model?"

"No, she's a law student."

"A gorgeous law student," Felicity muttered, chewing on her pencil. She allowed herself one last fleeting look at Tommy's table, steeling herself for a study session without distractions.

She found Oliver staring right back at her.

-

Felicity lay in her bed that night, arms and legs awkwardly splayed across the sheets as she desperately tried to force her eyes shut.

She had to be wrong. Right? She _had to be wrong_. There was no way Oliver, the Oliver she’d been reacquainted with, the suave business man and the excited club owner, was a criminal.

Tommy was his best friend. Why would Oliver want to destroy the Merlyn family company? It didn’t add up.

Maybe she’d seen wrong? A slight hand twitch didn’t immediately make Oliver guilty. Lots of people used their hands…in twitchy ways. It was a common habit for people with hands.

Hand twitches don’t exactly hold up in court as legitimate evident.

She could see it now; Oliver in handcuffs, Felicity in the witness stand, Tommy in the audience, angered by his friend’s betrayal.

_But your honor, his hand! I saw his hand!_

Felicity rolled her eyes at her own imagination, begging her brain to turn off so she could sleep.

-

The next morning, having missed her alarm, Felicity sprinted to work, juggling her cup of coffee and her bag whilst messily applying her lipstick. She downed her drink before stepping into the building, groaning when she noticed the line of Queen Consolidated employees waiting to scan their ID cards. She took a moment to readjust herself, before peering over her colleagues to see what the hold-up was.

Moira Queen was talking to a group of police officers. Despite working at Queen Consolidated for nearly a month, Felicity had yet to meet Oliver’s mother. She’d guessed that Moira was calm, collected- as CEO of a multi-billion corporation, Felicity guessed you had to be. But watching Moira talk to the police, her blonde hair delicately brushing against her shoulders, strong arms folded across a silk pashmina, Felicity’s expectations had been met and then some. Her elegance practically radiated across the lobby as she shared a tinkling laugh with the police officer questioning her.

 _Not her first time talking to the police_ , Felicity thought, raising an eyebrow as she pulled out her tablet to ease the wait. After a minute of trawling through social media, a strong hand brushed her elbow, causing her to let out a squeak.

“Felicity.”

Her hand flew to her heart as she caught her breath, turning to the guy she’d spent most of the night worrying about. Oliver was stood with Diggle, who was looking intimidating in a black get-up, one hand to his earpiece as he listened to a stream of communication coming from somewhere. Diggle gave her a curt nod in acknowledgement.

“Oliver! Hi,” Felicity said, affixing a bright smile. She pointed towards Moira surrounded by the cops, “Is everything OK?”

“Yeah, they’re just doing a routine check. With the Merlyn Global attack, they’re worried that Queen Consolidated might be next. It’s all just precautionary,” Oliver waved it off. Felicity swallowed, attempting to dislodge the lump in her throat that materialized at the mention of the Merlyn fire.

“Is Tommy OK?”

“Yeah. Just shaken up. He was at the club when it happened, so…” Oliver trailed off, his eyes darting between his mother and the disgruntled employees waiting to start work. “Speaking of, did you enjoy you evening?”

“Uh yeah, it was great. Got called in to sort out the security system, but it got sorted. Plus, I got a free dinner, so all in all a pretty good night,” Felicity exchanged a look with Diggle, who smirked in response, one hand still hovering over his earpiece.

“Glad to hear it.”

“I, uh…I didn’t see you around the club much. Did you…leave early?” Felicity said coolly, clearing her throat and picking at her mint nail polish. She couldn’t help but notice the way Oliver shuffled his feet, his fingers tapping against his thigh.

“Yeah, you know. Duty calls,” he said. Felicity pursed her lips together, an image of the CCTV footage flashing in her mind. Her tablet suddenly lit up with a message from Cooper, asking her about the attack on Merlyn global. Is he keeping up with Starling City news now as well? She grumbled inwardly, swiping the message away. She glanced up to find Oliver staring at her tablet, a strange look settling on his features.

“Well, thanks for the invite, anyway,” Felicity said, noting the line ahead of her begin to move. She quickly replaced the tablet as a thought appeared in her head. Last night, an idea planted itself in her mind, a twisted stem sprouting from her growing doubts about Oliver. Taking the opportunity of having his attention, she took a deep breath.

“Hey,” she began, twisting the back of her earring nervously, “Uh, I downloaded some new software last night on my computer. Thought it might be useful for the club? It protects against new viruses, high security, that sort of thing? Might help to fix the bug.”

Oliver considered this for a moment. “Sure. Sounds great. When are you free?”

“I can do tonight?”

“Great. I can’t be there, but Dig’ll be around to let you in,” Oliver said pointedly.

Diggle gave her a nod in response and nudged Oliver. “We gotta go,” he said gruffly.

“Got it,” Oliver replied, tearing his eyes away from Moira and touching Felicity’s shoulder. His tone softened. “See you around, Felicity.”

Her lips parted as she grappled for response, watching as the two men strode through the barriers and reached Moira. A concerned Oliver placed a hand on his mother’s back as they made their way towards the elevators. As she reached the front of the line, she exchanged a nod with Michael, the security guard she’d become friendly with, and swiped her ID card through absently. She couldn’t help but wonder what the Queens put in their cereal to make them seem so suspicious.

But she was determined to find out.

(Not the cereal thing.)

(She guessed they ate their cereal with rare, diamond-flecked cream poured from golden vases sculpted by the gods.)

(Which sounded kind of amazing.)

(But yes, mostly, the suspicious thing.)

-

“Hello?” Felicity called, poking her head around the club door, “Is anybody here?” Her words reverberated across the club dancefloor, an eerie atmosphere settling over Felicity. Closing the door behind her, she edged further into the room, keeping her eye out for Mr Diggle.

“Mr Diggle?” she attempted again, making her way towards the computer room. She pushed the heavy door open and shrugged her coat off, watching the wall of monitors for any sign of Oliver’s brawny bodyguard. Her eyes latched onto the bottom screen on the left hand side, noticing Mr Diggle standing beside what looked like a heavy duty safe door.

“This club has a _safe_?” Felicity said aloud, although in no way was she really surprised. A super-computer, a safe, a boss who dabbles in criminal activities. All in a day’s work.

Comforted by the fact that she wasn’t completely alone in the club, she flicked the main computer on and waited for it to load up. Humming to herself, Felicity pulled her phone from her trench coat. She had been so busy at work, she hadn’t had time to look at anything other than the security programme Rich had insisted they all work on.

“Ms Queen needs this programme by next week,” he’d declared, shrugging away the blame as he handed out packs containing specific information about what their CEO needed from them.

Felicity skipped a text from Cooper, asking her how her day had been. She didn’t have the heart to block his number, but his constant messages cast a dark shadow over what was supposed to be her sunny new life in Starling.

 _Not so sunny down here_ , she thought, looking around the computer room, or, as she had decided to dub it, her ‘IT bunker.’ Despite this only being her third visit to the IT bunker, she was beginning to feel more at home. She brushed some dust from the desk in-front of her, imagining placing a nice potted plant beside the workstation, just to spruce things up a bit.

“Note to self- find out which plants don’t need sunlight to survive,” she said, flexing her fingers as she began to type.

In her sleepy madness the night before, she had tried to figure out which computer Oliver had been using for his… ‘side business.’ During her lunch break, she’d hacked into the Queen’s home network by using a few algorithms Cooper had taught her. As guilty as Felicity felt about invading the Queens privacy, she hated mysteries and always wanted to solve them. Plus, every day for the last month, Felicity’s bag had been practically tipped upside down and searched before she was allowed into the building, her tampons, lipstick tubes and coins flying around the lobby. Eye for an eye, right?

She’d been relieved when she’d found nothing incriminating on the surface from Oliver’s network thread. She resisted the urge to dig deeper into his 'private' history, knowing exactly what 25 year old men typically search for on the web. 

She’d also made the logical deduction that Oliver wouldn’t be dumb enough to use the Queen Consolidated computers for any criminal activity, but that didn’t stop her from taking a quick peek at his history. Nothing implicating either, although she did notice something interesting. On the day after he’d turned up at her apartment to exchange suitcases, he’d searched her name. Not in the company directory, but on his web browser.

She wondered what he’d seen during his research. She’d been in the news only once, when she came second in the National Information Technology competition at the age of 19. She had a Facebook account but it wasn’t like she used it much anymore. In fact, she was sure her profile picture was still a photo of her and Cooper during their last year at Harvard. Hardly scandalous. Shaking her head, she pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind and set to work.

After a quick investigation, she found that the history had been wiped from the club's computer. She stuck a USB stick into the port on the monitor and loaded up a file which could retrieve all searches from the monitor from the last month. Another Cooper recommendation.

 _Man, Cooper could run the world if he put his mind to it_ , Felicity mused, chewing her lip as the programme downloaded. After a minute or so, the history reappeared. Felicity lent closer to the monitor, eyes widening as she read the recent searches.

 _Merlyn Global_  
_Security Merlyn Global opening times?_  
_Mask_  
_Black mask_  
_Green mask_  
_Malcolm Merlyn_

 _No. No no no_ , Felicity screamed internally, not stopping to blink as her eyes scanned the list. She’d hoped in her bones that she was wrong about Oliver, that a hand twitch on a grainy CCTV feed meant nothing, but Felicity Smoak was too clever to abandon a puzzle. She saved the searches onto the USB stick, her body on autopilot as her mind buzzed with questions.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered in shock, “What have you done?”

“Felicity?” Felicity snapped her head in the direction of the voice. Mr Diggle stood in the doorway, an eyebrow arched and his handgun menacingly pointed in her direction. She gulped, fear ripping through her. She’d never been at this side of a gun. Or the other side, really.

_Why wasn’t he dropping the gun?_

She raised her hands away from the keyboard and held them above her head, hoping John would note this as a sign of surrender. She desperately hoped that he had _just_ turned up, missing the part where she'd uncovered their boss' dark secret. 

“Mr Diggle?” she started, shakily, “Is everything OK? You knew I was going to be here, right?”

“Did you see anything?” he snapped, the gun still raised.

Felicity’s brow crinkled in confusion. “What?”

“On the screens. Did you see anything?”

“No! No, I’ve been looking at this,” she insisted, indicating to the computer, “I’ve been uploading that software I talked about earlier? With Oliver? He knows about it.” The words tumbled from her mouth like a stray ball of yarn as she silently begged from him to believe her.

It took a few heart-stoppingly long moments for him to do just that.

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled, lowering the gun finally and slumping against the doorframe.

“What’s going on?” Felicity asked quietly, pushing herself from her chair, “Did something happen?” Mr Diggle rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, giving Felicity the chance to discover the fresh blood which coated his right hand, glistening in the light of the monitors.

“You’re hurt,” Felicity gasped, moving towards him cautiously.

John quickly wiped the blood on sleeve of his leather jacket. “It’s nothing. I caught my arm on some glass earlier. I’m fine,” he replied, fixing a small smile on his face.

Felicity wasn’t buying it, but didn’t fancy being on the scary end of his gun for the second time in five minutes. With a tight lipped smile, she nodded and returned to the workstation, hastily removing the USB stick and slipping it inside her skirt pocket. She turned back to Diggle and gave him her best smile.

“Hey, you want to grab a burger or something?” she asked, “I’m starving and I know you’re a fan of the luxurious Big Belly Burger.”

Diggle considered her offer for a second, his gaze landing on the monitors next to Felicity. She pretended not to notice and fought the urge to turn around to see what he was transfixed on.

“Maybe not tonight,” he eventually responded, “Oliver needs me here.”

With an understanding nod, Felicity slipped her coat on and switched the main monitor off, moving to the door. Diggle moved aside so she could get past, but caught her shoulder as she went. “I’m really sorry for scaring you, Felicity,” he said frankly, “It’s just…it’s been a long day. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. My gun will stay firmly in my holster from now on.”

"Good to know," Felicity breathed, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. She still hadn't figured John Diggle out yet- another one of Oliver Queen's mysteries. She titled her head thoughtfully, taking in the dark circles cresting under Mr Diggle's eyes. "Time for a new job, maybe?"

John huffed, a genuine smile playing on his features. "Yeah, maybe one day." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his vibrating cell. An expression of concern flashed across his features, but not quick enough for Felicity to miss.

"I should go and check on...the fridge," he cleared his throat, evidently embarrassed by his awful excuse. "Enjoy your burger, Felicity."

"Thanks," she replied uselessly, as he had already turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. Narrowing her eyes, Felicity edged back into the IT bunker, searching out for John on the monitors lining the wall ahead of her. She spotted him as he approached the safe door again. He glanced around, before pushing a button to the side of the door and turning the lock. He slipped inside and pulled the door behind him, leaving Felicity alone in the club and feeling very, very confused.

She wasn't sure greasy fries would help her begin to make sense of it all, but it sure as hell was a good start.


End file.
